


the memories left in the heart

by pepperedfox



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperedfox/pseuds/pepperedfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her departure, your mother left you these things: the corpse of your father, which you buried in the backyard; the remnants of a broken home, with the table still wet with tears; fear, which tainted your heart with its fangs, nourishing a fresh hatred in its wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the memories left in the heart

**Author's Note:**

> written on 4/17/14 for shion day of the kageroufestival on tumblr.

You were young, with your knees knobby and your body slender. When the villagers had come to “rescue” both of you, Father had ordered for you to stay hidden in the closet. Mother would come back to protect us, he assured you with a smile as he shut the door with a ‘click.’

Like the good girl you were you didn’t move. No matter the noises you heard, like the sickening crunch of something hard meeting bone, you curled in the closet, pressed your hands against your eyes, and focused on breathing. You counted your breaths in your head and forced yourself to go slowly so you wouldn’t rush and come out too soon. You waited for Father to tell you to come out.

He never did.

At last, when your hands were trembling and you felt as though you would suffocate in this wooden coffin, you opened the door a crack, your pale eyes wide.

You don’t remember screaming.

But you were always a practical girl, someone who inherited the best of her parents’ minds. Even so, you washed the blood from his face and tucked him into bed, sitting by his side, waiting, waiting—

Mother never came back. What that meant was something you refused to think about. Her thinking was what killed your father, her wishes for a world of happiness. If you stopped for even a moment, the rage slithering at the bottom of your heart would erupt, scrape the insides of your chest into a festering wound.

(If you stopped to think about it, the weeping would return and never stop.)

You hated the house, the passion choking you so much that it hurt to even speak about it to the emptiness. Years after you buried Father beside the garden, you carried a bucket of water and dye to his grave. It hurt to cut your hair. It was messy and it was rough, but you managed to hack enough of it off to make a small pile upon the earth, drooping like a limp snake. When you looked in the mirror, the dye appeared much too light, giving your hair a sandy look. But this will work.

You had to get away. You had to breathe again.

The dye was never meant to last. Eventually, your hair grew back, wiggling and slithering like some loathsome, living creature feeding off your scalp. The house waited for your return with great patience, and when you came back, bruised and broken, it welcomed you with an open door and a soft bed.

What you wanted wasn’t escape. It never was. In a world you hated, there never was a safe haven for you save for this cabin tucked in the forgotten meadow of the woods, passed over by time.

(It was about Mother, and it always had been.)

Standing at the entrance of the door after your brutal deaths, you realized this. Your daughter’s body was cold against yours, even as you cradled her closer. With gentle hands, you brushed back her hair and stared straight into Mother’s eyes.

"I want to stay," you said.

"Why?" Mother’s voice was awkward, soft. In her hands pulsed a black snake, curled in a tight ball. "I’m offering you another chance at life. Take it, Shion."

"… this was the world you wanted to share with Father." Mary’s face was so pale. You cupped a hand against her cheek. "With me. My daughter doesn’t have a place here. It must be lonely to live in an empty home."

The hard look in those ruby eyes crumbled, swelling with tears. “I never meant to leave you alone,” Mother said.

Loneliness was a difficult sentence to bear. You, of all people, understand it. With a smile you held her cool hand in yours, kissing the top of her head. “It’s fine, Mother.

"I’m home."


End file.
